


Hallmark Moment

by deartangerine



Category: Empire Records (1995)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, implied/referenced panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deartangerine/pseuds/deartangerine
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Deb says at last, softly. “I’m just an asshole. It’s genetic.”Corey realizes she still hasn’t let go of Deb’s wrist. She lets go. “It’s okay."“So…” Deb’s tongue darts out, to wet her lower lip. “Is this our Hallmark moment, or something?"“Or something,” Corey says, looking at Deb’s mouth.// Deb and Corey discover they're a lot more alike than they thought, and then they discover other things, too.





	Hallmark Moment

Corey should have seen it coming. 

She’s been living on the edge for so long that she’s kind of forgotten what it’s like to be normal. To actually feel like she’s alive, and in the present. _“There are twenty-four hours in a day,”_ her dad always says, it’s his Gospel, and Corey feels every one of those hours pass through her bloodstream and leech out the oxygen from her body, but she doesn’t live in them at all.

She’s stuck, and the only thing that can save her turns out to be an old-fashioned thunderbolt of fear. It happens on the fateful morning of Rex Manning Day, when Debra swaggers up to the register and pulls down her sleeve.

“Before you guys hear all about it,” she says dryly.

The white bandage makes her wrist look so small.

“That’s supposed to be a joke, right?” Corey is reeling, but she manages to keep it together. Debra is here, with a freshly-shaved head, but here nonetheless, otherwise unchanged. 

Corey feels sick, knowing there’s nothing but a slim margin of chance separating them from an alternate universe where Debra would not be here. Where she would not walk into Empire Records and flip Corey the bird in greeting, ever again.

Debra stares her down. “No, you’re the joke,” she rasps.

Corey can’t handle this right now. She storms out of the check-out stand podium, knowing this makes her look like a bitch, or a baby, or both. Maybe she is. But it does screw-y things to her lungs, learning that Debra is on the edge, too.

Of course, Deb has always been ‘Edgy.’ With her piercings and her weird boyfriends, every last one of whom she hates. She hates everything and everyone, in fact. Corey shouldn’t be hurt by the fact that she is no exception.

But she _is_ hurt. It’s the reason why she thinks about Debra all the time, like a reflex, like picking at a scab that will never heal. She daydreams about being friends with her. Really close friends, closer than she is with Gina, even, having sleepovers and telling each other everything and sneaking alcohol from her dad’s liquor cabinet.

If Deb was gone-

For three whole minutes, Corey makes herself as small as possible in the bathroom, and tries not to think about what would happen if Debra was gone. And when the three minutes are up, she’s okay. She straightens her skirt, and goes back out to help set up for their big day. _Her_ big day.

Rex Manning is coming. How can she not be okay?

 

Deb doesn’t like to look for reasons in things. She hates it when people tell her, _“Everything happens for a reason,”_ because if that’s true, then what kind of fucked-up reason made her mother leave when she was eleven years old? What kind of asshole would find a ‘reason’ in that?

But Deb watches Corey stare at herself in the mirror, in that dazed, post-meltdown bewilderment which Deb knows all too well, and she thinks maybe there is a reason she survived last night. Maybe it was so she could be here, right now, in the grimy, cluttered bathroom in the back of Empire Records.

“Let’s dry you off.” Now she’s holding Corey’s face, a new and strange experience, drying her off with a paper towel. Corey blinks at her. She’s so pretty she could be an alien, Deb thinks. She’s not quite suited to this planet. Like Deb. They’d both be better off somewhere quiet and full of stars, maybe.

“I guess nobody really has it all together,” Deb offers. 

Not that she ever thought Corey had it all together. The girl wears her anxiety like a fucking neon sign. But Deb knows _Corey_ thought so.

Corey answers softly, without looking at her, “No.”

“I feel like I should welcome you to the neighborhood or something.” Deb smiles. Corey smiles weakly in return. She looks over to Deb, and their eyes meet. 

Deb becomes very aware of how close they’re standing. She has to do something, or Corey might try to hug her, with some girly _‘now we’re friends’_ gratitude shit, and Deb doesn’t think she could stand it. So she does the only thing she can, she drops her pants and sits down on the toilet.

“Anyway, did you really want to do Rex Manning in the count-out room?” It doesn’t come out as nonchalant as she was aiming for. “Is that how you always imagined your first time would be? Your back up against the daily totals and your feet pounding against the safe?”

Corey turns around, giggling, and _fuck_ if her smile isn’t the best thing Deb has ever seen. She wants to do whatever she can to keep Corey smiling, forever.

Deb puts on her best porno voice. “Oh, Rexy, stop that! You’re so sexy!”

Corey is laughing helplessly, covering her face. After a moment, she recovers enough to ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Deb gets up from the toilet, doing up her pants. “Let’s save our Hallmark moment,” she says, and flushes, and leaves.

 

It’s late, after the concert, so late that the time doesn’t really matter anymore, and they’re probably all going to end up sleeping in the back room of the store.

Corey has been dancing with Gina, and avoiding A.J. and his kicked-puppy face, but when she sees Debra sitting alone on the edge of the roof, she realizes Deb’s the only person she wants to be with right now. She and Gina have all made up, but they still don’t feel totally comfortable, and anyway Gina is riding the high of her newfound stardom. Corey is happy for her, but she just isn’t in that headspace.

After everything that’s happened today Corey feels tender, scrubbed raw. It’s a good feeling, though. A newborn feeling, like she’s going to be different now, somehow. 

She sneaks up behind Deb, and taps her on the shoulder. “Hey.”

Deb turns. “Hey.” She watches Corey sit down next to her, a bit guardedly. “I’m not gonna jump, by the way. If that’s the reason you came over.” 

“It’s not,” says Corey. She pulls her hair over one shoulder and twirls it, then stops. “I turned A.J. down tonight.”

“That’s a real shame,” Deb deadpans. “You two would’ve made gorgeous babies.”

Corey snorts. “I don’t want babies. And I don’t want A.J. I felt like- if I said yes, it would only be to make him happy. I’m sick of trying to make people happy.”

“Really? That’s all you do.”

Corey nods, staring hard into the distance. “I know.” She looks back at Deb. “I never thanked you. For earlier.”

“It was nothing. I have a meltdown every morning. It’s my version of calisthenics. Burns a lot of calories.”

Corey fights a smile. “I think… you’re a really good friend, Deb.”

Deb’s shoulders stiffen. “Oh my god, you mean it?” she croons, sarcastic. “Will you write me a letter of recommendation?”

She starts to get up, but Corey grabs her wrist. Her face flushes hot. “Will you stop being an asshole for thirty seconds?” she snaps.

They stare at each other, both breathing hard. Deb’s eyes are wide.

“I’m sorry,” Deb says at last, softly. “I’m just an asshole. It’s genetic.”

Corey realizes she still hasn’t let go of Deb’s wrist. She lets go. “It’s okay.”

“So…” Deb’s tongue darts out, to wet her lower lip. “Is this our Hallmark moment, or something?”

“Or something,” Corey says, looking at Deb’s mouth.

It happens quickly. It happens because Corey feels raw and new, and her mouth is a live wire that crackles when Deb’s lips brush hers. They’re so soft, for all the hard things that come out of them. 

Their mouths are the only parts of them that touch, sitting stiff and frozen on the edge of the roof. Then Deb breaks them apart, inching back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she breathes. She has that wide-eyed look again. She hops off the edge, onto the roof, and practically runs toward the stairs.

“Deb!” Corey scrambles after her. “Deb, wait!”

She follows Deb all the way down the side of the building, and back inside. Deb slams through the doors, into the break room, and stands still with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Deb?” Corey’s voice teeters, about to break. _Oh, God._ This is the second time she’s thrown herself at someone today. And if Deb hates her now, _really_ hates her, then-

“Why did you do that, Corey?” Deb’s voice is hard. She doesn’t turn around. “Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry.” Corey’s crying. Again. “I just- I get it, if you hate me now.” She covers her face with her hands. “Now I know how A.J. feels,” she moans.

Deb turns, slowly, to face her. “What?”

“I said, now I know how A.J. feels.” Corey sinks down into the couch. “You were right, what you told me this morning.” She laughs, with tears streaming down her cheeks, because what else can she do? “I’m the joke.”

“Corey.” Deb drops down to her knees in front of her. She lifts Corey’s chin, and demands her eyes. “You know I didn’t mean that, right?”

“Right.” Corey hiccups, uncertain. “You’re just an asshole.”

Deb smiles. “Yeah. But you- you make me want to be less of an asshole.”

Corey blinks, and her breath evens out a bit. “I do?”

“Yeah,” Deb says again, grinning. “And, uh, maybe I could start by giving you the best first time of your life.”

Corey can only stare at her, mouth hanging open. “Oh,” she says, like an idiot. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Deb’s breath comes out uneven with nervous laughter. “It won’t be on this couch, though. This couch is riddled with disease, probably.”

“Probably,” Corey giggles, letting Deb pull her upright. Deb doesn’t stop pulling, pulling Corey into her. Their noses bump, and they both laugh, before their mouths melt into each other’s. 

This time, they can’t help but touch. Corey runs her fingers over the short, soft bristles on Deb’s head, and she wants to tell Deb how good she looks with it all shaved off, how she’s probably the only person in the whole world who could pull it off this well, but telling Deb this would require them to stop kissing, and Corey doesn’t want to do that. Deb’s arms are around her, so slender and small, and yet Corey feels safer than she ever has in her whole life.

They have to break apart for air.

Corey swallows, and confesses, “I didn’t know I liked girls. Until- well… today, I guess.”

“I knew,” says Deb. “But I’ve never actually dated any.”

“Do you… want to date me?” Corey’s pulse pounds in her throat. She didn’t realize how much she wants it, until she said it aloud. But what if Deb doesn’t? What if this is just an experiment for her, another ‘nutty teenager’ thing?

“I dunno,” says Deb, blasé. “I want to kiss you, for as long as possible. I want to…” she bites her lip, “do other things, to you. As many times as you’ll let me.”

Corey blushes. “I think that’s dating.”

“Then I want to date you.” Deb kisses her again, quick, then tugs on Corey’s hand. “Come on, we can go to my place.”

 

Deb’s roommates are asleep. The two of them are bad at being quiet, sneaking down the hallway on tiptoe. Deb bumps into a doorframe, and muffles a curse. Corey giggles.

Finally, they make it to Deb’s room. She turns on her desk lamp, which emits a low, golden glow. Corey’s eyes widen, as she looks around. “Wow.”

There is writing scribbled on every spare inch of wallpaper, some of it overlapping, some of it scratched out. In all different colors, pencil and pen, places where she wrote so hard the pen broke and ink splattered.

“Is all of this yours?” Corey whispers.

“Most of it.” Deb takes Corey’s hand, lifts it to her mouth and kisses it. _Fuck,_ this girl is turning her into a fucking romantic sap. Corey smiles at her, and kisses Deb on the mouth.

She pulls back, and whispers, “I don’t know how this works.”

“That’s okay.” Deb tries to sound cool, even though her heart is thumping so hard her ribs might break. “I’ll go slow, and you can tell me if I do anything you don’t like, okay?”

Corey nods. Deb takes a deep breath, and lifts the hem of Corey’s sweater, in question. She answers by raising her arms, letting Deb tug it all the way off. Then Corey tugs at Deb’s shirt, and they repeat the process. They go back and forth like this, until they’re standing in front of each other in only their panties. 

Deb stares at Corey, mouth slack in awe. All that comes out of her kiss-addled mouth is, “You’re an alien.”

Corey’s brow furrows. “What?”

Deb realizes what she said. She takes both of Corey’s hands, pulling her over to the bed. “I mean, you’re too pretty to be from Earth. You must be an alien.”

Corey cocks her head, confused, but she lays down anyway. “Thanks.” She smirks. “You must be an alien, too.”

Deb flushes warm with joy. She hovers over Corey on all fours, lowering down to kiss her. Her mouth moves slowly down Corey’s neck, the gentle slope of her shoulder, her collarbone, the soft place between her breasts. She could spend a week there. 

But she doesn’t, because Corey is making tiny, impatient sounds that just might drive Deb crazy. Instead, she dedicates her mouth to one of Corey’s nipples, bares her teeth just enough to make it sensitive, then runs her tongue in circles around it, rejoicing in the mewls of pleasure this elicits from Corey.

She does the same thing to the other nipple, while pinching the first one with her hand. Corey squirms, panting.

Once her nipples are all rosy and pert and pretty, Deb comes back up. She swallows Corey’s hot, eager breath in a kiss.

“Good so far?”

Corey nods. “I- I want to try.”

Deb smiles, surprised. “Fine by me.”

Corey grins, almost deviously, and flips Deb over. She gives her the same exact treatment, kissing down her neck, over her collarbone, and sucking on Deb’s decidedly smaller breasts. Not that Corey seems to mind. And _damn,_ but she’s a fast learner. A bit too gentle for Deb’s taste, but they can work up to that.

“What else is there?” Corey asks, breathless.

Deb laughs. “A lot.” She sits up. “Wanna find out?”

Corey nods.

Deb pushes her gently back down, and kisses down her chest, over her stomach. She tugs at Corey’s underwear, flicking her eyes up to make sure. Corey nods again, smiling, eager. Deb pulls her underwear down.

 _Oh._ She can smell her, that heady musk, and Deb’s mouth is already watering. A brief thought flits through her mind, that if this is a dream, it’s a really really good one, and she hopes she doesn’t wake up before she can make Corey come.

So she gets right to it, spreading Corey’s thighs apart and ducking in toward her center. She can count the times she’s been with girls on one hand, but every single time, she’s received compliments on her mouth. Still, this is fucking _Corey Mason,_ and Deb has been obsessed with her in a kind of ‘unattainable fantasy’ way for years, and she wants to make this better than good. She wants to make Corey addicted.

“Oh, oh, oh my god,” Corey moans, getting louder, and Deb thinks about shushing her, because her roommates are asleep, but she doesn’t. She sucks Corey’s bud, works her tongue in and out. But just as Corey starts shaking, Deb pulls away.

Corey gasps. “What- what happened?” she pants. “Why did you stop?”

“Because I want to do this a different way. I want to see you.” She kisses Corey’s lips, reaching a hand to the back of her head, pulling her upright. “D’you taste that?” she asks.

Corey is still shaky, her breathing ragged. “Yes. Tastes… weird. But not bad, I guess.”

Deb grins. “Lick these for me?” She offers her pointer and middle fingers to Corey’s mouth. Corey obliges, and the sight of her lips around Deb’s fingers sends a bolt of lightning through Deb’s core.

She slides her slick fingers into Corey, going slow, watching her face. Corey closes her eyes.

“Oh,” she breathes. She holds onto Deb so tightly she might leave marks. Deb certainly hopes she does.

“Look at me,” Deb says, almost a question, and Corey’s eyes flutter open, pale-blue and otherworldly in the dim light from Deb’s desk lamp. Deb kisses her, as she slips in the second finger, and begins to speed up. Corey moans into Deb’s mouth, then pulls away, as her breathing gets shorter, tighter, coiling up.

“Fuck, Corey,” says Deb. She kisses her throat, bites her gently. She looks back up, to see Corey’s face when Deb’s fingers reach the right position, the perfect rhythm, that makes Corey clench and release, as her whole body shudders. She cries out, loud enough to wake Deb’s roommates, and maybe the neighbors, too, and as much as Deb loves to hear it she feels compelled to kiss Corey, to muffle the sound. She keeps her fingers still as Corey shakes, the wave crashing over her. At last it subsides, and she collapses, unravelling in Deb’s arms.

Corey keens softly, panting for breath. Deb is panting, too. She lays Corey all the way back down.

“What was that?” Corey asks, when she can form words.

“That… was your first time, Corey Mason.” Deb smirks. “Was it how you always imagined?”

“No.” Corey reaches up to Deb’s neck, pulls her down, to kiss her. She smiles, and she’s practically glowing. “It was way, way better.”


End file.
